Bach’in’ with boys to men (and missing Miss ‘T’)


After a whirlwind trip to Davis and taking in a concert with son Brian—who is conducting business in Texas and then off to Salt Lake City for an American Zoological Association conference, we returned to San Diego to enjoy a Padres v. Dodgers game Labor Day weekend with son Matt.

I covertly eyed our youngster (a term chosen with tongue in cheek to describe a 32-year-old man and father) during the game and got an old man’s take on a twisted déjà vu. I recalled fondly how my Dad took me to games to see old Dodger AAA farm team Spokane play in the PCL, and now here I was ….

I started reminiscing about watching Matt compete from T-Ball through college crew and felt the inevitable whir of clock hands spinning at mach speed. As an aside, I have marveled often over the years at his athletic gifts particularly in comparison to mine—skills bestowed through Jane, some other faction of the Greco line, or an Adonis milkman.

Now Jane is off to Fort Collins to help her sister Jan rehab from a nasty spiral fracture of her femur, so I’m doing the bachelor thing and babysitting grandson Jakob on my own—creating another warp in the context of life’s patterns: how the hell did I become old enough to be a grandfather and look it, too? Maybe it’s all this mano a mano time with the three “men” that causes me to wax philosophic.

In my mind’s eye, it seems like two little boys became grown men in a mere bat of the eye, carving their own way in life and creating families of their own. I study them. I listen. I fight the urge to once again pick them up and put them on my shoulders. Although in reality, it’s not much of a struggle. Were I to act on impulse, I’d crumple to my ass.

No doubt this nostalgia bubbles up from a mental abyss brought to boil by the nurturing required for Jakob, which leads to missing my bride. Not just because I could use her assistance, though I’d gladly cede to some. It’s being with and admiring these three young men-boys that reminds me how important she has been in their lives and mine.

That guy Mort really appreciates and misses you, Tallulah, that wonderful girl who never seems to age in an old man’s eye.


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